


the blessings of the moon

by straightforwardly



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amoral Characters, Betrayal, Complicated Relationships, Cunnilingus, F/F, Implied Possessiveness, Loyalty, Minor Painplay, Return of Someone Thought Dead, Sibling Incest, Wall Sex, mentions of people being burned alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/pseuds/straightforwardly
Summary: For more than ten years, Yue had thought her sister dead.





	the blessings of the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fallingvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingvoices/gifts).



Within the outer borders of the mountain pass stood an ancient temple, tall and mighty. Legend told of how it had once been abandoned by its acolytes: not because of war or famine, but simple failure of human faith. But though humanity abandoned it, the gods did not. It was said that even the stars had blessed its wall— the stars, which blessed nothing and no one. The temple stood proud, despite the years of neglect: the stone remained uncracked, the shining copper roofs untarnished. No creeping vines covered its walls, nor did weeds crowds its courtyards; the sacred pools remained filled, their waters bright and clear as crystal.

It was also said that, centuries later, when the Great General crested the at-the-time-abandoned mountain road with his great army and looked down upon the temple for the first time, he had been so struck by its serenity that he had thrown down his arms and pledged himself to a life of peace and prayer on the spot. And so the First Great Conquest had ended.

Standing in the same spot where the Great General had centuries ago, breathing in the clear sharp air of the high mountains, Yue looked down upon those copper eaves, gleaming under the light of the moon-bright sky, and felt nothing save contempt and irritation. Contempt at the thought of the Great General, who had come so far only to throw it all away for nothing; irritation with herself, for thinking on such useless tales at all.

The past was past: the choices of a long-dead general had nothing to do with her. It had never even been she who’d had interest in those ancient tales; that had always been— 

—But that was long past, too. 

Her own conquest awaited.

Gripping her weighted spear, she raised her arm to the sky. The warriors around her echoed her, as did those behind them, the motion spreading through her warriors like a wave; and when she spurred her horse forward, pushing down the mountain path, her army followed after her like the hind legs of a beast following after the fore. 

The temple offered no resistance to their conquest. It held no army: the only people who dwelled there were the priesthood which had sprung up in the wake of the Great General’s own taking of vows, and they bore no arms. Yue’s only concern had been for magic, but it soon became apparent that what few casters there were had no great skill, and with the help of her wizard, they were subdued as quickly as the rest. Cries filled the night as her warriors filled the temple’s walls, forcing acolytes and priests alike out from their beds and into the courtyard. 

One broke away from the rest, forcing her way towards her. Though she was dressed in the same plain nightclothes as the others, the bronze holy symbols tattooed upon her cheeks revealed her to be the high priestess of this temple. Her mien showed no touch of fear, though surely she must have been aware of the precariousness of her situation. Some of Yue’s warriors moved to stop her, but Yue, still horsed, gestured for them to hold their ground. 

“For centuries, no one has dared touch the sanctity of this place,” hissed the high priestess when she reached her, low and fierce. “Why do you, now?’

“Because,” said Yue, cold and hard, “all know that no one would dare.”

The stage was now set. She had her base. From here, the mountain path opened up to the lands of the Kirin Clan— to the lands of Chiyome. Or, rather, ‘Lady Chiyome’, as the woman styled herself, in what Yue found to be a particular pathetic grasping attempt at grandeur. She herself had no use for such Empire nonsense; her might won her leadership, and it was her might that her warriors followed, not flimsy words. 

Still, for all her pretensions, there was no denying either Chiyome’s skill with the sword nor the intense, arrogant charisma which won her many a powerful ally. For years, Yue had eyed Kirin lands, building her strength through other conquests as she waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

That time had now come. She had her strategy. She had her base. She had her army, bolstered by the resources of her other conquests. And though the reports she’d heard told her that time had not decreased the amount of talent which surrounded Chiyome, she knew that she had gathered around her warriors who could equal them. 

Soon, the Kirin would be hers. 

*

The taste of rain scented the air. Blood mixed with the mud and slime as Yue’s warriors fought the warriors of the Kirin Clan, and many an enemy fell by a misplaced step. She’d heard much of the might of the Kirin’s new sun-blessed caster, and so hadn’t hesitated: her opening gambit had been to have her own wizard send a deluge of water to flood the plains that formed their battleground. 

Flames still punctured the battlefield, the piercing screams of the dying following in their wake, but the water in the air dampened the radius the fire could reach. Some of her warriors, too, found their death in the treacherous terrain, but fewer than the Kirin.

Yue thrusted her weighted spear into the throat of the warrior bearing down towards her, then pulled back, ignoring his dying gurgles as her eyes darted back over the battlefield. The success of her strategy was all well and good, but though a flooded battlefield might win her the battle, she needed more to win the war. 

To do that, she needed the head of Chiyome. 

The minutes went by. Twice, Yue glimpsed Chiyome in the distance, but always she vanished before Yue could reach her, slipping in the gaps between the fighting like a shadow. 

Finally, she bore down on her. Sliding her spear out from an enemy warrior’s gut, she ducked beneath the crumbling form of another enemy who was rapidly drowning in a sphere of water her wizard had pressed over their head and came out on the crest of a low hill. On the swell of earth opposite her stood Chiyome, the reddish glint of the scales of her armor unmistakable. Only five or six fighters stood in the gap between them, and at least two of them were Yue’s own.

Yet, for the first time in uncounted years, Yue hesitated upon the battlefield.

For at Chiyome’s side stood a woman: tall, beautiful, and cold-eyed. Her eyes were golden, as her robes and the twin suns tattooed on the back of each of her hands were golden. A heavy bronze medallion formed in the shape of the sun hung from her neck, laying in the valley between her breasts; at the edges of her sleeves, suns and stars entwined were elaborately embroidered with amber thread.

A sorceress.

And also her very own sister, who up until that moment Yue had thought more than ten years dead.

 _Amane_.

Grief and yearning clogged her throat. Fogged her reason. Her world narrowed down to only her sister, turning towards her: a sight she’d thought she would never see again. 

Their eyes met. Amane lifted her hand— and from it a whip of fire lashed out across the battlefield, striking Yue across the face. 

*

Lantern-light flickered over the war table. It flickered in the hallway too, wildly, the shadows growing deep and strange. Yue did not lift her eyes from the map spread out before her, though she started cataloguing the weapons she had within a hand’s reach. Her weighted spear, leaning against the wall next to her. The knife strapped beneath the folds of her sleeves. The sturdy wooden table she leaned against: not her preferred weapon by any means, but she was strong enough that she could lift and throw it at an assailant if the situation demanded it. 

The sound of a gentle thud followed. She’d never had heard it if she hadn’t been listening for it. Still keeping her face turned to the war table, she watched the doorway from the corner of her eye. There were no windows in this room. No other entrances, either. Back when she’d first taken over the temple for her base, she’d chosen this room for her plotting deliberately for that reason— less opportunities for her plans to be foiled by spying. Or by assassination, for that matter. 

Amane stepped through the doorway and out from the shadows, her sun-bright robes shimmering in the lantern-light.

Yue’s grip went tight on the sides of the table. She didn’t go for a weapon. Not yet. Not because she trusted her sister not to try to kill her— the week-old burn scar seared across her cheek attested the foolishness of that hope— but because of the lanterns.

Her sister had always had a prodigious talent for controlling fire. At five, campfires had been for her a place of play, the flames flickering into the shapes of animals and people for her entertainment. At ten she had ceased to know what it meant to be burned; newborn flames burst to life without kindling with a wave of her hand. At fifteen she’d worn a necklace of living flame to a gathering of the clans, and less than three years later she’d burned an oath-breaker alive within the torrents of the river in which he’d sought safety. 

She doubted that Amane’s skills had deteriorated, in those long years when she’d believed her dead. And yet, the lanterns had warned of her approach. 

Once, she’d known her sister better than she’d known her own self. Much had changed, clearly, but she was still willing to stake that Amane wanted more from this meeting than mere assassination. 

Keeping her voice cool and unconcerned, Yue asked, “Tell me: how many of my guards did you kill on your way here?”

As if reading her thoughts, Amane’s eyes fell to Yue’s empty hands, before dragging her gaze slowly back up to her face. Her mouth twisted, and Yue knew before she spoke that she meant her words to be cruel. 

“Only your favorites.” 

She didn’t ask how she knew which to target. Her sister had always been thorough in scoping out her enemies, and though in hindsight she had shown much restraint upon the battlefield where they’d reunited, none of that restraint had been aimed at Yue. Faces— possibilities— flashed quickly through her mind. Not many, but there were certainly some whom it would be a shame to lose. She was acutely aware of Amane’s eyes on her, avid and hungry, waiting for any sign of dismay or pain. 

Yue kept her expression carefully blank. 

“And here I thought I was the one who’d always liked breaking other people’s toys.”

“Oh, yes, you _did_ always like breaking things, didn’t you? Toys. Bones.” Her sister stepped forward, her eyes flashing. “Bridges.”

 _Amane, her body splayed and broken on the rocks below_ — 

Yue snapped. Shoving down the sudden, familiar surge of now-pointless grief, she snarled, “You shouldn’t have been there! You were supposed to have been with the vanguard!” 

“Is that what you tell yourself? Is that your excuse for leaving me for dead? For _abandoning_ me?”

“You were dead! No one could have survived that fall! You were dead, and I _mourned_ you, the more fool I!”

Her voice sounded raw. Vaguely, Yue knew that she was revealing too much. She’d come this far because she’d always been strong. She couldn’t afford to falter now. 

And yet: this was her sister. She'd never hidden anything from her before. To do so now went against all of her instincts.

At the very least, she was not alone in her weakness. She could see the last of Amane’s poorly-veiled indifference shatter as she spoke.

“Clearly I _wasn’t_ dead if I’m standing here now! Which you might have known if you hadn’t _left me there_!”

“And so you forget all that's passed between us in favor of stewing in your own bitterness? You join my enemies?” A terrible suspicion struck her. Looking hard at her sister’s robes— her _Empire-styled robes_ — she demanded, “How long have you been Chiyome’s creature? From the beginning? Did you run straight from my bed to hers?”

Amane’s eyes flashed with fury. She surged forward; on instinct, Yue snatched up her spear, and then Amane was in her arms, snarling, “ _I am no one’s creature_ ”, before kissing her with a bruising fierceness.

Yue tossed away her spear and returned the kiss with equal force, the heat of arousal already pooling between her legs. More than ten years it had been since she had tasted her sister's lips, but time had not diluted the pleasure. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that they were young girls again, discovering the glory of one another’s bodies for the first time. Even the tenor of that pleasure had scarcely shifted with the passage of time. How often had they stumbled back to their tent together after a well-fought battle, their blood running hot and wild with battle-lust and no place to redirect their desires save upon each other?

Amane pulled back, though she didn’t go far. Yue could feel her every breath; her golden eyes filled Yue’s vision. Panting, Amane demanded, “How could you ever think that I would ever even _touch_ that pretentious—”

Yue kissed her, a quick, harsh kiss; one of her hands curled possessively at the small of her back, and the other she fisted into the dark, thick mass of Amane’s curls. Then she pulled back, tugging at her hair and forcing her to bare the arc of her throat to her. Amane glared back at her, and like this, flushed, angry, aroused, her golden eyes darkened by lust— never had she been more beautiful. 

Amane attempted to twist out of her grip, but Yue held tight. She hissed at the pain; Yue laughed, and with a growl, Amane shoved her, forcing her back against the wall. She followed up the violence with another kiss, her fingers fumbling at the laces of the light armor Yue always wore, save for when she slept, and that— the fumbling, where she’d once been so practiced— drove in more than anything else had how many years it had truly been. 

But soon enough the laces were untied, and scarcely had the armor been discarded onto the ground than did Yue flip their positions, forcing Amane against the wall. She pressed against her, hip to hip, taking a moment to indulge in the sensation of her sister’s breasts pressing against her through the thin layers of cloth separating their skin. Only the weight of the medallion Amane wore cut into the warmth radiating against her. 

Then she dropped down to her knees, her hands curling around Amane’s ankles. Her heart raced in exultation as she dragged her hands up over her sister’s legs, pushing up the skirts of her robes. Her hands lingered at her thighs; the muscles there were more well-defined than she remembered them as. Had Amane spent much time on horseback, in those years when she had thought her dead?

Yearning filled her and before she could think about it she pressed a kiss against the crease where thigh met body, gentler than any kiss she had given thus far. Amane made a sound, almost like a gasp, and Yue looked up just in time to see a streak of vulnerability pass over her face. 

Then she hardened again, and in an echo of Yue’s earlier motion she grabbed Yue by her braids and pushed her face into her soaking cunt. She grinded against her, once, twice, then loosened her grip. Yue picked up where she left off, licking her folds, sucking at her clit, devouring her in just the way she knew she liked. 

Soon Amane was moaning wildly above her, her nails clutching desperately at her grip on Yue’s scalp as her legs trembled with the effort to keep standing. Yue had thought herself aroused before, but the sound of her sister’s moans sent new heat, more intense than before, pooling between her legs, and she found herself letting go of one of Amane’s thighs just so that she could dip a hand below her own belt and fuck herself with her own fingers.

Then Amane gasped, high and sharp, and Yue felt her spasm around her face with the force of her pleasure. She shuddered herself, her cunt clutching around her fingers, not quite at the brink but nearly there, as her mouth worked to carry her sister through the lingering after-effects of her orgasm. 

When the last of Amane’s trembling ceased, she pulled back, leaning her forehead against Amane’s thigh. Her fingers worked furiously at her own cunt, circling her clit, plunging in and out of her hole, and she gasped— she was nearly there— 

And then she wasn’t touching herself anymore— she was on her back on the ground, Amane leaning over her, her wrist caught in her hand. Her hips bucked, desperately, futilely chasing the ghost of her lost pleasure, and an embarrassingly needy sound ripped itself from her throat.

“What,” Amane panted, “Makes you think that I’m going to make it so easy for you?” Her eyes were dark, so dark. Her hair fell disheveled over her shoulders, accentuating the flush of her skin. Yue wanted to kiss her almost as much as she wanted to come, but she held back, waiting to see what her sister would do.

Amane’s eyes roamed over her. Yue tried to picture what she must see: the braids that must be coming undone after Amane’s rough treatment of them, her own flushed skin and lust-dark eyes— and her mouth, slick and swollen from what she’d just done. At that thought, her tongue darted out, chasing the last lingering remnants of her sister’s taste.

Amane’s eyes narrowed in at the movement; her lips parted. But then her gaze moved up, and her fingers brushed against the scar over Yue’s cheekbone— the scar Amane had burned into her. 

She hadn’t thought that Amane’s eyes could grow darker, but she was wrong. Amane pressed down against the still-sensitive skin, meeting Yue’s hiss of pain with a shuddering, wanting inhale of breath, and then she cupped Yue’s face and kissed her fully, her thumb stroking the line of the scar over and over again. 

“Tell me,” she breathed against Yue’s lips. “What would you do if I called my flames now? If I marked you as you deserved?” She splayed out a hand over Yue’s chest, pressing down hard on the puckered remains of an arrow wound peeking out from the collar. “If I burned away each and every scar you received after leaving me?”

A shudder of pleasure unexpectedly went through Yue’s spine and straight to her still-throbbing clit. She thought of her spear, only a few feet away; she thought of her knife, still hidden beneath her sleeves. She thought of how little she wanted to think of these things at all, and how much she just wanted to lose herself in her sister again.

Every leader had a weakness, and she’d never been foolish enough to think herself an exception, but for all these years she’d lain secure in the knowledge that her particular weakness was not so easily exploitable as others’: she’d had no great taste for drink, nor an inclination for lust or an urge to spend her luck on tosses of a coin— only a sister, long dead. 

Only a sister, now her enemy. 

“Is that meant to be a threat?” she asked as dryly as she could, trying to grasp at the lingering remains of her composure. “Or is it just pillow talk?”

She’d half-expected her comment to irritate Amane. Instead, she laughed, low and breathy. 

“Would you like me to show you?” she asked with a sweetness that had never boded well for their enemies, back when they were as one. Almost idly, she pressed her knee between the juncture of Yue’s thighs. “But no: I would want it as a punishment, and that look in your eyes tell me that you would enjoy it too well.”

Yue could not deny it. So instead she wrapped a hand around the back of her sister’s neck and pulled herself up into another kiss. The pressure of Amane’s thigh against her was exquisite, and only became more so when Amane finally properly loosened the ties around Yue’s waist and slipped her hand beneath her waistband to touch her properly. Her sister had always run hot— a side-effect of her magic— but even her fingers felt cool against the heat of Yue’s desire. 

It wouldn’t take much more for her to come apart, but Amane refused to give it to her. Her fingers moved agonizingly slow through her slick folds, each movement the most exquisite of pleasures and the most exquisite of tortures. They weren’t kissing anymore: Yue leaned back against her hands, her head tilted back and eyes closed, her head buzzing as the whole world narrowed down to just the feel of Amane’s fingers moving against her. 

She scarcely noticed Amane pushing aside the folds of her top with her other hand before Amane cupped that hand around her breast, her thumb toying roughly with her pebbled nipple. Soon mouth replaced thumb, the hot swirl of her tongue alternating with nips of her teeth, abusing her until her hips were bucking desperately against her sister’s hand. 

Finally, _finally_ , Amane gave her what she so desperately needed, her fingers moving against her hard and fast. Sooner than she could take a breath she was falling apart, her back arching, her thighs clamping around her sister’s wrist, the pleasure bursting through her body in intense waves. 

She didn’t know how long it took for her to come back to herself. When she did, it was to find Amane staring at her, her eyes fixed on a single point. 

Yue followed her gaze.

Less than half of her torso was still clothed; the rest was bared to the waist, the upper portion of her sleeve tumbling over the curve of her shoulder. For a moment, she thought that her sister had been distracted by the nasty scar cutting over the muscles of her upper arm and running down near the side of her breasts, but no— she’d still been at her side when she’d received that one. It had been her sister who had staunched the wound, and it had been she who had snarled threats at the healer as he’d worked on cleaning and binding the wound.

Then she saw it: the dark tip of her knife’s sheath poking out from her bared upper arm.

Amane pushed her sleeve further down. Stroked the revealed leather of the sheath, her touch almost reverent. A flash of heat, then the ties that had kept the sheath strapped to Yue’s arm fell away in cinders, and the knife was in Amane’s hands. 

Yue sat up, though Amane didn’t seem to take notice. Instead, she turned the blade over in her hands, studying it. The sheath itself was a simple thing, made of leather, but the knife— that was something different. The blade, made of the sharpest of steel, had never failed Yue, while exquisite, abstract decorations of inlaid silver wrapped around the hilt. 

It had been Amane who had given it to her, years ago.

Abruptly, without looking up, Amane asked, “Do you know why I came to you tonight?” She didn’t wait for an answer. "It was to tell you that _I_ control this war. Not Chiyome. Not you. _Me_. And the only reason I haven’t ended it yet is because when it does end, I wanted you to know exactly who was responsible.”

Quick as lightning, she gave Yue one last brutal kiss. Then she stood, her eyes hard. The knife was still in her hands. 

“Remember that,” she said, and then she was gone. 

Yue got up, but did not follow. Instead, she dressed herself again, righting her disarrayed clothing and strapping on her armor slowly and carefully, until she thought that enough time had passed for her sister to have made it through the guards and fortifications in her way out of the temple and past the camp.

Then she picked up her spear and headed out of the room to tell her warriors to prepare themselves for battle.

*

As it turned out, Amane hadn’t killed any of her guards, despite what she had claimed. That explained why no alarm had been raised, despite the amount of time Amane had spent ensconced in Yue’s war chamber. 

Her wizard, however, hadn’t been so lucky. The warrior Yue had sent to awaken him when he didn’t answer her summons had instead found a charred corpse in his bed. The blessings of the moon, it seemed, had not been enough to save him from the wrath of her sister’s fire. 

As dawn’s pink light appeared through the gaps in the mountain peaks, the first of Chiyome’s warriors appeared on the mountain path. Yue, standing at the edge of the temple’s grounds, tightened her grip on her spear at this confirmation of her suspicions. 

At a glance, this was no proper place in which to fight a battle, and less so for one who wished victory for the Kirin: not because of the traditional sanctity of the temple, which Yue had already stomped over, but because of the breadth of the mountain path. Or, rather, the lack of it. Any fighting would be limited and cramped, with the bulk of each side’s fighters unable to reach the other. Further, the path from the temple went _down_ to Kirin’s lands, just as she had come down from the peak of the mountain path to reach the temple. It put them at a disadvantage— at least at a glance.

For the Kirin had her sister, and Yue had no caster at all, and the combination of the two closed the gap between them. If she ordered archers to rain arrows down upon them, Amane would only burn them all away— a trick she had performed on Yue’s behalf more than once. If she had her wizard, she could have attempted a mudslide to sweep away the bulk of Chiyome’s forces— but if she were honest with herself, she would not have attempted it even if her wizard still lived. Not in this battle. Not when Amane counted among those who stood in the path below.

 _“I control this war,”_ Amane had said. She’d purposely restrained herself in the last battle, and Yue had wondered why— her wizard’s dampening of the battlefield certainly couldn’t have affected her as it did other sun-blessed casters; she was too powerful for that— but now she knew. Now her sister had no more reason to hold herself back. 

_Weak_ , she thought, frustrated with her impotence. She would not fall here— she would not allow it; but she could not help but think that just as the Great General’s weakness ended his conquest at this very place, it seemed that so too it would be her own weakness for her sister which doomed her if she failed here. 

All the same: she could not knowingly give orders which would send her sister to her death. Not when she had so narrowly escaped it the last time. That limited her: she would be a fool not to acknowledge that. 

The night’s chill had not yet receded, though the early light flooded all around them, casting away the shadows. Yue’s warriors stood prepared around her; below, Chiyome’s warriors gathered, and all was still as the two armies gazed upon one another, as though the turning of the world itself had been caught and held in the breath of that moment. 

Yue’s gaze fell upon Amane, sequestered in the midst of Chiyome’s warriors, next to Chiyome herself. Her sister lifted her head and somehow, even though the distance between them kept her from seeing her clearly, Yue knew she was looking at her too.

Drawing in a deep breath, her eyes locked on her sister, she opened her mouth to order the advance.

Then:

Her sister turned. Silver flashed through the air. And the figure that was Chiyome fell. 

Another beat of silence— and then the world erupted into chaos. A column of fire erupted into the sky around where her sister and Chiyome had stood as a shield as Kirin warriors turned, shouting and violent, upon her.

“ _Go_!” shouted Yue— furious, elated, frightened. Her sister was enormously powerful— but everything had its limits, and her power had always showed itself in the _intensity_ of her flames, not their duration. She would not be able to shield herself long. “Go to the sorceress! If she dies, so do all of you!”

She herself did not wait: she raced down the slope, her warriors following, and threw herself into battle. All was noise and chaos: the clashing of steel and the sounds of the dying. The compact terrain made it difficult to advance: the Kirin held strong against their advance, forcing them to fight upon the corpses of those who had fallen before them. The stench of burning men filled the air, the only comfort Yue had against her own personal lack of progress through the Kirin’s ranks.

But despite their skill, despite how the terrain had shifted to being in their favor, despite everything, the Kirin quickly grew disorganized: flailing as a serpent which had lost its head. Finally, they crumbled under the ferocity of Yue’s warriors attack. Broken and scattered, the remnants of the Kirin retreated.

Yue did not pause even to take a breath. Pushing her own warriors roughly aside when they did not move out of her path quick enough for her liking, she went straight to where she’d seen Amane last. 

She found her there: panting and exhausted, her magnificent robes stained and marred, blood streaking down her face, but alive, gloriously alive. A few of Yue’s own warriors, apparently having managed to break through the ranks to reach her, stood near, and Yue spared half a second to note them for future honors before her whole world narrowed down to nothing but her sister. 

Amane looked up as she approached. A cut ran down the right side of her face, narrowly avoiding her eye: that explained the blood, though the cut itself did not look too serious. Head wounds always bled. Yue could see no other notable injuries. 

In her hand, she held the knife which she had taken from Yue the night before. Chiyome’s corpse lay crumpled face-first on the ground before her feet. Blackened blood gleamed from the back of its head.

Amane said, “I did say that I could end this war any moment I pleased, did I not?”

Stepping around Chiyome’s body, Yue took her face into her hands and kissed her, open-mouthed and hard, heedless of the blood or the bodies or the people around them. Amane returned the kiss with equal fierceness, clinging to her, her nails digging into the skin of her shoulders with a punishing grip. 

“Do not mistake me,” said Amane breathlessly when they parted. “Not once have I lied to you: I have not forgiven you for leaving me behind.”

“But you are still mine,” said Yue. 

“Just as you have always been mine,” she agreed. 

Fierce joy surged through Yue, so powerful that for a moment she couldn’t speak. She pulled her sister to her, holding her tightly. And in that moment, surrounded by the growing warmth and light of morning, the bodies of her enemies strewn around her, she could not imagine ever letting go of her again.


End file.
